


colourless

by brogandi



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Mutant Husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brogandi/pseuds/brogandi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We are brothers, you and I.” He begs. “We want the same thing.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	colourless

**Author's Note:**

> a beach divorce ficlet (because no one has done it before)

All of Charles’ senses feel white. It’s the only way he can describe it.

The barrier of the helmet sings white noise against Charles’ aching mind, the sun glares colourless behind that metal head, Erik’s skin is the colour of eggshells, and just as fragile looking.

Charles’ hands itch at his side and guiltily, spitefully, he wishes the arms holding him were Raven’s.

Erik’s jaw is chewing around apologies and rhetoric, but his heart isn’t in it, Charles can tell even as he gapes at him through a barbed wire mess of pain. There is something else that is stealing his breath and beating against his ribs, some pain that his stumbling mind hasn’t been able to find words for.

His fist is clenched around Charles’ suit and he holds him in the crook of his elbow like he would break if he let him go (like _Erik_ would break, with his brittle eyes and his shaking jaw; not _Charles_ , who is bleeding into the sand.) Erik closes his eyes for a second. Charles would have believed it was a blink but for the tension lingering in the crush of his eyelashes and the grief weighing deep in the paper fold of his crow’s feet.

Charles can see it gathering in the cracking corners of his mouth, bundling in his throat like choking, body-heavy ash. _I love you_. Erik is struggling with it and his face is corroding under the strain.

What is another one, Erik?

What is another body to you?

One more notch on your gun.

One more pair of dead eyes tucked between your ribs.

Why does this one matter?

_I love you._

“We are brothers, you and I.” He begs. “We want the same thing.”

Erik’s fist is so tight that his palm is bleeding around a cooling bullet, his lifelines already shaping themselves around the imperfections of the tiny ball of metal. Erik feels the bullet’s scratches so he doesn’t have to feel his own.

“I'm sorry, my friend,” Charles watches Erik’s face, not feeling the tears that slide down his cheek and rip through Erik’s careful breath. “But we do not.”


End file.
